Blue Diamond
by The Liquid Moon
Summary: Daichi was an orphaned teen who has come to Tokyo to find his estranged uncle. Yuriy was a rising Russian model who had a single day’s shoot in Tokyo. This is a story of how their paths came to cross and interweave.
1. Prologue

**

* * *

Blue Diamond **

* * *

Summary: Daichi was an orphaned teen who has come to Tokyo to find his disinherited uncle. Yuriy was a rising Russian model who had a single day's shoot in Tokyo. This is a story of how their paths came to cross and interweave. **

* * *

Prologue **

* * *

Whenever someone from his village had returned from their trip to Tokyo, they always said that it was _the_ biggest place they had ever seen in their life. They also said it was the most vivid and fastest, but they would first emphasize the sheer size of the city. 

Daichi hadn't really paid any attention to their accounts. Why would he want to go to Tokyo? He was happy living with his father in their village. He loved the trees, the river and the birds, and did not wish to go anywhere where he would miss all these. One of the passions of his life was Beyblading. He felt powerful when he was surrounded by nature. It felt as if he drew his strength from it. He had so honed his Beyblading skills that he was quite convinced that he was _the best Beyblader_ in this world.

However, as he stood on the side of a road, surrounded by Tokyo life, he felt that he ought to have listened to what Iogi had been babbling about all the fortnight last month when he had returned from Tokyo. _Because_, thought Daichi, _I am _loster (1) _than lost here._

The first thing that had struck him about the city was its noise. At home, everyone said that he was the noisiest person around. But right now, all Daichi felt was that everyone should have been grateful for _his_ noise – at least they weren't totally deafened by it.

The second thing was the amount of people – he didn't know that it was possible for so many people to live together in one place. Some, he suspected, as he frowned after a blonde foreigner who had pushed against him in passing and hadn't had the decency to apologize, some – no, many people seemed as if they didn't belong here.

The only thing he had liked about the city till now was the myriads of buildings. If only he hadn't lost his bag in the train, he would have already entered that ice-cream shop and would have been digging into the hugest sundae they had. His mood became cloudier as he realized, yet again, that he could not.

What was worse (yes, there were some things worse than being unable to eat), he had not only kept all his money in that small bag which held his few belongings, but also his uncle's address. He hadn't been too bothered when he had discovered his loss. But that was before he realized that for a penniless teen who had never been here before, the city was of mythical proportions. There was no way he was going to find his uncle here.

"I'll probably die of hunger before anything else," he said to himself as he tore his eyes away from a McDonald's joint.

_

* * *

As useless as the sun on a winter's day… _

Yuriy Ivanov stared at the dim glow of the late afternoon sun.

_It doesn't even hurt my eyes. How very useless…_

He leaned back in the cushioned chair and looked at the park opposite the restaurant. There were a moderate number of people there; everyone was busy with their own lives in their own world. The expression in the model's eyes was merely disinterest at first, but the more his thoughts plagued him, the more jealous he grew. He didn't long to be one of _them_, though. No, he abhorred anything that would degrade him to the level of 'commoners'. But he would have given a lot for their careless freedom… a lot…

"Yuriy-san? Aren't you listening to me?"

He cringed slightly at the whiny tone of his companion's voice. He had more than half a mind to tell her that, _no_, he wasn't listening to her. He won't listen to her even if his life depended on it. He'd prefer to be hanged for choking the living daylights out of her than listen to her.

"Gomen nasai, Hina-chan, I am a bit tired. It was an intense day. Kazushi-san began the photo-shoot at four in the morning. I hardly got any sleep last night. I must look terrible."

He hated how at times like this, his mouth could easily form its own words. It had become an unconscious habit with him. He could play the part of a silver-tongued host without trying. No doubt it was 'profitable'. All the same, he couldn't help but wish that things were… different. If asked to define 'different', he won't be able to say anything at all. He'd only repeat that he wanted things to be 'different'. It would have been funny how the only things that were hardest to achieve were those one wanted most – it would have been funny, if it wasn't so damned annoying.

"Oh, no, Yuriy-san! You can never look terrible," cooed his companion.

_Oh, yes, I look terrible. Maybe not as terrible as you – but terrible, very terrible. I am feeling terrible. There is no bloody reason why I shouldn't look it._

"Now you are really flattering me," he smiled charmingly at her.

"STUPID PHONE! STUPID WRONG NUMBER! STUPID EVERYTHING!"

Yuriy turned to find a boy banging down the receiver of a pay-phone – and yelling at it. Seemingly oblivious of the attention he was attracting, he continued his tirade.

"What an _animal_!" exclaimed the lady opposite him, drawing his attention back to her.

Yuriy murmured his agreement and glanced at his watch. _Half past thirty. Fifteen more minutes of this torture. I hope someone kills her after that._

* * *

Daichi had reached the end of his patience. Not that he had much patience to begin with. However, he had tried his level best to exert as much patience as he could, extracting it from hidden recesses of his heart and mind, but to no avail. 

He had lost all his money and belongings. In an unexpected stroke of luck, he had chanced upon a coin on the pavement. However, it was only a false consolation, and proved to be no luck at all, because he had ended up dialling a wrong number. He had been so sure of the phone number! He was totally confident that he hadn't confused any digits. Even then, he had wasted the precious coin on a bloody wrong number. Why didn't fate understand that he was _not _a patient guy?

"… yeah, the redhead."

Daichi had always known that there were never many redheads around and whenever he had heard the term, his ears perked up – people _must_ be talking about him. In his village, he had usually been right – there was only Tamiya, who had recently painted his hair red. But people didn't call him redhead. 'Redhead' had always been Daichi's trademark.

Hence, even as he sat fuming over his bad luck, his subconscious had picked up on the word. Was someone talking about him?

He looked around to see two men standing near a car just on the other side of the park fence.

"That's the one. Now don't hit the girl."

Daichi's eyes widened as he saw the speaker pull out a revolver and hand it to his companion. It didn't take him long to spot the object of their conversation. A man with red hair, like his own although shinier, sat outside the restaurant, lunching with a woman. As far as he could see, there were no other redheads around – other than him, of course.

"Well, it's almost about time. I'll be ready at the wheel – don't linger. Yeah, he's getting up…"

_Oh my God! They are going to kill him!_

There was no time to think. Even if he had thought (which was really not the sort of thing he did, anyway), later on, whenever Daichi would recall this incident, he knew that he won't have regretted his actions although they proved pretty fruitless.

* * *

"**Look out! Duck! Hide!**" 

It was the same voice which had been yelling at the telephone. Yuriy couldn't say why, but he knew that it was directed at him. That worried him. Why would that boy be addressing him _now_, of all times? If there was a mistake, someone could get… hurt.

He turned away from Hina's constant chatter to look directly across the road. He could see the confusion in the man's eyes. He wasn't supposed to be looking at him. What was going on?

In the blink of an eye, the man was down on the road – the boy had jumped on him from behind and pushed him down. He was now looking at him.

**"Get away! He's gonna kill ya!!**"

Yuriy wondered if there was some change in the plan. No, they would surely notify him about it, won't they? His cell-phone was on. They could have contacted him any time.

The man was yelling at the boy. The latter had caught hold of his hand and was struggling to take away his revolver. It wasn't long before a shot fired into the air.

In a way, Yuriy was rather glad of the ensuing confusion. Hina screamed in a rather un-lady-like manner, clinging to his arm. Exasperated, he shrugged her off and made his way to the other side of the road. The other man had gotten out of the car and pulled the boy away. However, two more shots had been fired, only resulting in greater panic among people and more chaos.

"What's going on?" asked the man who had been in the car.

"Get lost! What're you waiting for? Police?" hissed Yuriy.

The two thugs moved quickly, the car speeding away as the sound of police vehicles came nearer.

Yuriy turned to get to his own car. However, a thought struck him and he looked down. The boy had hit his head against the edge of the pavement and sported a bleeding wound on his left temple. However, he was conscious enough and staring confusedly at him.

Yuriy bent down and caught his arm. "Come on!"

When the boy didn't move, he made a noise of frustration and dragged the boy to his feet. "Come on, boy!" he repeated, pulling the teen after him as he rushed to his car.

* * *

Yuriy brought the car to a stop and turned to look at the boy. He had a weary, beaten look and if Yuriy hadn't been so frustrated by the fact that he had messed up the whole plan, he would have pitied him. 

"So, what do you want now? My autograph?"

The boy frowned. "Why would I want that?"

Yuriy stared at the kid, startled. He had questioned him with sarcasm. He hadn't really been expecting an answer – at least not the one he received.

Suddenly, he grinned.

"Yeah, I wonder why. You'll probably want a lift then?"

Daichi's face fell and he shook his head. Releasing the seat-belt, he prepared to get out. "I'd ask for it if I knew where I was going – because my legs are aching like hell." He glanced at his feet. "I think I must have walked a million miles already."

"Sure." Yuriy, who had been searching for something in his pockets, leaned over to open the glove compartment. He pulled out a cigarette from the silver case and put it on the dashboard in front of Daichi. "Smoke?"

The boy scrunched up his nose as Yuriy blew out a grey wreath of smoke. "How awful!"

The model looked at him with a sardonic smile on his face. "You're a blunt guy, aren't you? You must be getting into a lot of trouble." Before Daichi could reply, he continued, "Look, I would thank you for your warning if I had needed it – which I didn't. If there's nothing you want, I will get going." A strong 'tack' indicated that Yuriy had opened the lock – he was welcome to get out.

"Okay."

As the windshield drew up, Yuriy glanced at the boy. At that time, he didn't think that he would ever see him again – very, very soon.

**

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Author's Notes: **

(1) Yeah, I know 'loster' isn't a word… but it just struck me as something Daichi would say – can't tell why.

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Edit: February 7, 2007, I'm back… for good! So I will be working extra hard and hopefully, I will continue to provide my readers with a good read! I've fixed a couple of mistakes in this chapter and it is much better than before.

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	2. On The Cold Eve of St Valentine's Day

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Blue Diamond **

* * *

Chapter 1 

On the Cold Eve of St. Valentine's Day

* * *

"It's way too cold for February!" 

"Hmmm…"

"What is it?"

This time the redhead made no reply but continued forward. His companion rolled his eyes. He put an arm around Sumeragi Daichi and stopped him.

"What's up with you? Seriously, you look like someone is going to put you to gallows."

Daichi pulled away from his friend, Sakagami Tetsuya. "Are guys even supposed to be moving about today?" he asked sullenly as yet another pair of girls gave them odd looks.

"Girls are shopping for Valentine's, so what? I'm telling you they never have such a variety on normal days!"

"Yeah – nor do they put up boards about 'Nothing Better to Charm Your Boyfriend'."

Tetsuya laughed, which only annoyed Daichi even more. "Oh, please, you can't seriously be embarrassed by that! Unless you have a boyfriend to blush over! Ha! Ha! Ha!"

Daichi only got more annoyed. He was reminded yet again that the only reason he hung out with Tetsuya was because he had no other choice – he would never choose to be friends with someone so weird of his own volition. He walked away from the chocolate shop they were about to enter. "THERE'S NO WAY I AM GOING IN THERE!" he yelled. He had had enough.

"Okay!" said Tetsuya, still chortling, "I'll get the chocolates. Don't run off. I'll need to borrow money for train back home after this."

"Don't buy those bloody things then!"

Tetsuya ignored him and went in.

It started snowing. Daichi looked up as a flake melted on his nose. Snow was rare in his village. And it seemed to snow a lot in Tokyo. His uncle had explained that it was not 'a lot' but Daichi definitely felt so. There were supposed to be places where it snowed almost all round the _year_. When he had first heard of it, he had thought that it would be amazing to live in such a place. It would be great fun to Beyblade on snow-covered grounds. His Strata Dragoon racing through the cold, making a white mist rise would look so cool!

But now he wasn't particularly amazed by snow. He had grown used to it. Right now, it only bothered him. It would make him cold despite the sweater and overcoat. And his hair would be a mess. He wished it would stop soon.

He had been in a bad mood ever since he has seen that Blue Diamond poster. The international supermodel Yuriy Ivanov was their latest catch. All the girls in his class had been talking about him. It was so damn _annoying_!

* * *

As they neared his house, Daichi spotted a black Mercedes Classe parked near the mansion. Although he had been expecting it, it did not fail to horribly darken his mood when he saw it. He wondered if he could shrug off Tetsuya before they neared the house. If the boy told the class that he knew… 

"I'll return the money tomorrow! Eat the pink chocolates soon – I had them add something special for you! Bye!"

Daichi didn't need to be told that twice. He would probably end up finishing all the chocolates he had before the next day. The only consolation he drew from hanging out with Tetsuya today was that the guy made compensation for his troubles by sharing almost half his purchases with him.

So annoyed was he after seeing that car, that he thought he won't have minded going back to those female-dominated streets if only he could escape meeting _him_. The very sight of him made him uncontrollably angry.

* * *

"Yo! Daichi-kun!" 

Resisting the urge to throw the box of chocolates (from which he had already begun eating) at his head, Daichi ignored the man sitting in the hall and continued forward.

"Well, well, who would have thought that you would receive so many chocolates even before Valentine's Day?"

"What's your problem?" Daichi turned back to scowl at him. "Unless you are looking for a fight…"

"Say, aren't you way too hot-tempered, boy? For one in your position," here he smirked, "controlling temper should be second nature. In future, you are really going to need that advice."

Yuriy Ivanov looked complacent – with a venomous smile of one who was satisfied that he had properly messed up another's life. Daichi abhorred that look. Without a second thought, he hurled his box of chocolates at his head. Yuriy dodged it.

"What a waste!" said the man, shaking his head at the butterfly-shaped white chocolates strewed on the floor. "And you should learn to not waste, too, while you are at it."

"WASTE!!! WHO'S FAULT IS IT THAT IT IS WASTE? GO AWAY! WHAT THE HELL IS YOUR PROBLEM? I HATE YOU!"

The insolent smile disappeared from Yuriy's face. "Bear with it," he said coolly, "and both you and I are going to have an easier life of it if you just accept the fact that you are responsible for your own actions. Stop blaming me for every little thing that goes wrong in your life, boy!"

"SHUT UP! I WILL BLAME YOU! BECAUSE IT'S YOUR FAULT! EVERY TIME YOU ARE AROUND, YOU ARE BAD NEWS – YOU'RE AN ONI!"

* * *

Daichi threw himself on the bed, pulling the pillow over his head. Stupid Yuriy! Stupid uncle! Stupid world! Stupid Tetsuya! Why was he stuck among so many stupid, selfish people? He wanted to go home. Even if he would be a penniless beggar who no one loved there, he wanted to go home. He was going to kill someone if they kept him here any longer. With a sinking heart, he realized that he would probably have to kill himself. Everyone else was… unreachable. 

If only he had not come to Tokyo… if only he had not believed his uncle and continued living in the village… It wasn't even his fault. He had had no desire for any inheritance money or whatever he was coming into. He only wanted to be the best Beyblader in the world – nothing else mattered. Why was life so hard?

Almost five years ago, after his father's untimely death, a man had come to his house one afternoon, explaining that he was an envoy from his uncle – his late father's much younger brother. His uncle, the man had explained, had been committed by the will to be his guardian until he came of age and inherited his parents' wealth and property.

Daichi had begun rightly – by being dubious. He had never known his mother, who he assumed had died at childbirth… that was what had happened with one of his friends' mother back in the village and since he had learnt early never to mention his mother before his father, he had only his imagination to create thoughts about his mother. He was told her name by a neighbour when he was ten. She had even shown him her picture of when they were kids. However, she had begged him not to tell that to his father – and she would say no more.

He had known that he had an uncle. During family gatherings, there would be muttered whispers about him but no one openly mentioned him. He had been disinherited but Daichi could never learn why. His father only told him to forget about such things – his old man was cranky and had too many children to not disinherit a few. Daichi had actually believed that to be the reason for a while.

The mention of an uncle who had been disinherited made him wary even at the young age of twelve. He had come to think of this uncle-who-should-not-be-mentioned as a terrible guy, ready to butcher people. Maybe a murderer… So when someone came to his house saying that he had come to take him to Tokyo to this taboo uncle, Daichi was plainly scared.

The conversation had been overheard by an aunt who had come to take care of him for a few days after his father had passed away. She had yelled at that man and shoved him out of the house.

Despite his fear, Daichi was now curious about this uncle.

Then one day, a few months later, he had received a letter. It had been delivered to him in the school and no one in his family knew about it. It had been from his uncle. It reiterated everything the man from Tokyo had said and even stated the reason why he had been disinherited – "a marriage against the old man's wishes".

Daichi ended up believing every word that had been written in the letter. His uncle had even included his photograph. It was possibly the strongest reason why Daichi completely changed his opinion of his uncle – the picture clearly showed how strongly resembled his uncle, red hair and all. It shocked and pleased him and arose in him a feeling of closeness like never before.

"_Are you lonely in the village now? I have always missed my home. It would please me to have you as my son – a part of my very own family. But I am not forcing you into anything, Daichi… I have heard that you are a first-class Beyblader. There are a lot of skilled trainers here. You can enter the tournaments and prove it to the world."_

At the end of it all, Daichi was convinced that no one could possibly care about him as much as this man. He knew that his relatives only thought of him as an unnecessary burden. It was awful to see his cousins loved and cared for as if they were more precious than life itself and being left out of it all. They fed him, clothed him and gave him a home. But there was no one to smile at him when he mastered yet another Beyblading technique. And being his father's only brother, won't he be the person most like him right now? Most like his father…

He had escaped his then lonely village, full of hopes for a new life.

And from then, he had only gone downhill.

* * *

"Don't tell me you are crying, monkey!" 

Daichi had been so lost in his thoughts that he had not heard Yuriy enter his room. Now he sat up, startled, the pillow clutched tightly in his hand.

"Are you _sick_ or something? Why are you following me?"

Yuriy did not make an immediate reply. He made to switch on a light in the dark room but reconsidered. Light from balcony night-lights streamed into Daichi's room through the pair of open French windows. It was enough to guide him around the room. Daichi's voice had sounded steady but if he had been crying, Yuriy didn't want to witness that.

"What is it?"

"Do you really think I am an oni?"

"Yeah. And you are the filthiest oni on the planet!"

"Onni in Finnish… it means good luck."

"You are Japanese. So you are the Japanese oni," said Daichi, not to be defeated.

"I am Russian," corrected Yuriy dryly. "My father remarried a Finnish woman."

Daichi looked up. This was the first time Yuriy had gained any semblance to normality in his mind. _Yeah, even people like that have fathers._

"What do you want with me?"

Any mention of family disconcerted Daichi.

"Do you want to leave this place?"

Daichi drew up his legs and clutched the pillow more tightly. _Joke away! Make fun of me! Rub it in! Tell me yet again how stupid I am!_

"I will stay in Japan for a fortnight more – and then I will leave. At that time – would you want to come with me?"

Daichi suddenly became very aware of the bit of cashew nut at the side of his mouth and the creamy taste in his mouth. He had never noticed before that his room was situated in a very silent quarter of the mansion. You couldn't even hear the traffic here. There was only the sound of the Italian fountain in the backyard. He noticed a lot of things he had never realized before as he sat dimly processing what Yuriy had said. Much as he hated the man… he still couldn't bring himself to refuse the offer outright. Maybe he didn't hate him enough.

After a long silence, he was only able to churn out one word, "Why?"

He had been silent for so long that Yuriy imagined he had passed out of shock.

"I don't _want_ you to," said Yuriy, lighting a cigarette. "But if _you_ want to… I won't mind."

His flippant tone incensed Daichi. "Why the hell would I want to do something so stupid? I don't want to do stupid things anymore."

The tip of Yuriy's cigarette glared orange for a second.

"Stupidity is your middle name, monkey. You'll probably die if you don't do stupid things."

There was no malice in Yuriy's voice. His words came out as rather an obligation. He couldn't talk few straight sentences to Daichi without exaggerating them with sarcasm. He had stopped putting meaning into things he said anyway.

"Uncle asked you to do this, didn't he?" accused Daichi, convinced that it was the reason why Yuriy had made such a strange offer and relieved that things were… normal. They were possibly planning something worse for him. Although what good it could be to them to have him tag along with Yuriy, he could not fathom.

Yuriy made no reply but turned towards the balcony.

"You're as stupid as ever," he said, breathing out smoke as he glanced briefly at him. "You can't seriously believe that I meant that, did you? I'd be _damned_ if I had a monkey like you with me."

* * *


	3. The Thorn in the Side

**

* * *

Blue Diamond**

Chapter 2

The Thorn in the Side

* * *

Yuriy had left for Russia. All the girls in his class who had been mooning over him for the past fortnight were now less than a step away from whimpering and bawling over the fact. Daichi browsed mindlessly through the manga he had brought to school. He had not met Yuriy after the eve of St. Valentine's Day. Yuriy must have been to his house quite a few times because he always had some important business with his uncle. However, he seemed to have taken care to avoid the places where they might run into each other.

More than once, Daichi had resisted the temptation to go over to the east wing of the house where his uncle usually received people who had business with him. He hadn't been specifically forbidden from going over to that part. Daichi wasn't so much interested in the place so as to wander about it, anyway and the matter had never come up. Why would he be, when all he wanted was to get out of there?

Yuriy had left Japan…

He… he had meant it that time… Yuriy was a guy who only brought him bad luck. What was there to guarantee that he won't poison him the first day they landed in Russia?

Useless speculations… There was no need to be so hung on to such an idiotic joke, anyway. Stupid, stupid joke… There should be some limit to what things you could be funny about and what you couldn't!

Moreover, though Daichi, as he quickly put the manga inside his bag when the English teacher came in, it wasn't as if he would have accepted Yuriy's offer if he had meant it seriously! He would only be exchanging one hell for another – only the other hell would have been worse because he would not even be in Japan then!

No matter _what_ he thought and felt about the whole thing, he couldn't stop mulling over it. He couldn't stop wondering why Yuriy would say such a thing. He couldn't stop feeling that maybe… maybe it was all not just meant to tease him.

* * *

"Hey, Daichi! Want to go down to Beyblade?"

"You really need to ask me that?"

Despite the fact that he wasn't particularly fond of his companion, Daichi tolerated Tetsuya's company for only one reason – the guy shared his passion for Beyblading. It was the only bright point in his miserable life and he held onto it with all his heart.

"I wish you could enter the Championships," said Tetsuya, as they climbed up the steps to the Beyblade Centre.

"Shouldn't _I_ be the one saying that?"

"You can't. You won't. So I am saying it for you."

Maybe Tetsuya had noticed him gazing longingly at the poster of the current World Champion, Kinomiya Takao near the entrance.

"Yo! Daichi! Up for a match?"

"Daichi! I'm gonna defeat you for sure today!"

"No way! That's gonna be me!"

Strata Dragoon firmly gripped in his hand, Daichi ginned. "Dream on! I'm gonna be the king again! There's no one better than me! Ha! Ha! Ha!"

The launcher was positioned at the right level, the ripcord ready – "LET IT RIP!"

"He's lost it," muttered Tetsuya to himself as he went over to another battle-dish.

* * *

"This is so GREAT!"

Daichi sat back on the floor, smiling widely. "Tch! I should've come here earlier!"

"You couldn't have. The building was closed for repairs the past month."

"Tetsuya! Stop sulking! Enjoy life!"

Daichi clanked two beer cans together and gulped them down one after the other.

"Don't drink like a pig! And the other one was mine!"

"Nopes! I am the Beyblade King right now, and the world belongs to me!"

Tetsuya rolled his eyes. "Whatever! Don't get drunk – or they'll ban you from the Centre."

"They can't ban _me_!"

"Come on… we've got to hurry or it will be past your curfew."

Daichi yanked his arm out of Tetsuya's grip. "I don't care. I'm gonna go in for ANOTHER ROUND!"

"Did ya say another round?" came a hoarse voice from behind them. "So you wanna lose? I'll win this time, for sure!"

"Ha! WON'T LET YA!!!"

Daichi was back on his feet again, pushing away Tetsuya who was trying to haul him away. He wasn't going to let anyone control his life anymore. Even if he was penniless, hopeless and the unluckiest person in the world, he still had Beyblade. As a kid, he had dreamed of being the best Beyblader in the whole world and he was going to beat Takao or whatever the name of that guy was. He wasn't going to let anything stop him. He was sick of everything and he wasn't going to put up with it anymore.

* * *

"GO STRATA DRAGOON!!!!"

"Stop yelling in the middle of the street! I can't believe you got drunk with those guys!"

"FUCK YURIY!!! GO TO HELL!!! DIE!!!"

"Will you STOP YELLING?" Tetsuya pulled back Daichi on the pavement. "Man, aren't you in big trouble tonight!"

"I HATE YOU!!!"

"URUSEI!!!"

"Not you, kid, he probably meant me."

Tetsuya squinted his eyes as the man stood directly in front of the neon green board of a bar.

"Yuriy-san?"

"I'll take the kid from here," said Yuriy, advancing towards them. "I know this way is the shortcut to his house but…" He glanced at some men standing not far away and looking towards them, "You'll prefer Brother's reprimand to what some people here could do to you."

"YOU LIAR!!!"

"You drunk!" shot back Yuriy, grabbing Daichi round the waist. "There are better ways to play rebel."

* * *

"I know…"

Daichi looked up at Yuriy, struggling to keep awake.

"I know…"

"Shut up. If you try to talk that hard, you'll end up puking more."

"… get… never… cruel…"

"There's one more flight of steps to go. Walk, dammit! I am not carrying you! I'll fucking drag you to the room if you pass out here."

"…Russia…"

Yuriy tightened his grip around Daichi's waist and the wrist of the arm slung over his shoulder. The kid was making no effort to help himself up to the room. He would have preferred shoving him in front of Brother and letting the kid have what he deserved but Daichi had already thrown up once and seemed drained of all energy. He had been forced to check in into a nearby hotel. On any other occasion, he would rather have bitten off his tongue and died then check into a love hotel with a kid – a male kid at that – but Daichi had obviously never drunk before and was growing more ill by the minute.

"…Beyblade… leave… dad…"

"Stop talking."

Daichi's breath came in short gasps as he ushered him inside. His eyes would close but every movement would force him to open them again and struggle to look up at his companion.

"… you… go…"

Yuriy heaved a sigh of relief and stretched his arms as he finally lowered Daichi on the bed. The boy made a last effort to force out words but eventually gave up as the soft warmth of the bed covers enveloped him. Yuriy frowned as he felt his warm forehead and arms. Should he call a doctor or wait it out till the morning? He knew that Daichi had never drunk alcohol in this quantity before today. Tetsuya had been pretty scared. But he insisted that there was no stopping Daichi. He had been too stubborn of late.

Finally deciding that calling a doctor would be too much of a hassle – especially in this kind of place – Yuriy took off his shoes and coat and fell into the bed beside Daichi.

* * *

He still remembered the first time they had met. He wondered if things would have been different if he hadn't meddled in it all. He wondered what he would have been doing at this time if he had not bothered about whether those thugs 'shot' at Yuriy or not. They'd never have met. He would probably have been tired of looking around and returned to his village. He would still feel awfully lonely. But no one would stop him from participating in the World Beyblade Championship. He would have been battling that other guy for the Championship – and winning it from him. He'd be on top of the world. Only he and Strata Dragoon in his world – he really wouldn't have needed anything more.

He would have been happy.

"What are you staring at?"

If he had never met this guy… would his mind have been such a mess everyday… every day… every single day… thinking nothing, feeling nothing… wondering… complaining… blaming…

"What time is it?"

If only things could change just by thinking about them… If only…

"Am I really that beautiful?"

Yuriy leaned back on his arms and tilting his head to one side, looked down at him. Did people with blue eyes think that they had a right to make them simulate ice? What were people with green eyes supposed to make their eyes seem like then? Poison?

"You only wanted to tell me how I can't get out of this whole deal, didn't you?"

Yuriy yawned and rubbed his eyes.

"How can you think about so complicated things this early?"

He looked at his watch and then flopped back on the bed. Turning on his left, he propped up his head on his left hand.

"But it did get through to you, didn't it? Took you two weeks and all but its good that it did."

"It didn't take me two weeks," said Daichi indignantly. "I didn't find you before – to tell you that."

"You didn't have to tell me anything." Yuriy bent closer to him. "Or is that I have finally charmed you that you come looking for me?"

"Who would like your ugly face?" spat out Daichi, receding away. "That's not all I wanted to say. I wanted to tell you that I am going to prove that you are wrong. I am going away from this place. I will be the World Beyblade Champion. I won't fall in this gutter."

"You've already fallen – that's what I wanted to drill into you. Blaming me, yelling, drinking – no matter what you do, you can't get out of it all. And my face is ultra-pretty."

"Are you a girl or what? Why do you keep obsessing over your looks?"

"It earns me money."

"Even if I have fallen," said Daichi, looking directly into his eyes, "I am going to get out of it."

"You'll still be dirty."

"I'll scrub off the dirt! I'll do anything, everything – whatever it takes to live how I want!"

This man is so irritating, thought Daichi.

"And how do you want to live?" Yuriy closed his eyes and let his head fall back on the pillows. "In a palace? Surrounded by purple waterfalls and white clouds? Looking up at clear blue skies with golden sun? With blonde, winged fairies attending to you? Eating twenty-four meals a day?"

Daichi made a face. The mention of food reminded him of the bitter taste in his mouth. He had vague memories of throwing up somewhere last night, after which Yuriy had brought him to this place. Just what was this place?

He turned to ask Yuriy, but the latter had already pulled the bed covers up to cover his face and turned on his other side.

* * *

The sunlight blazed into the room. But it was just the heater that kept them warm. Did this also qualify as mirage? Daichi never really understood what mirage was. Something that wasn't there but you saw it? What did you call something that was there and you felt it and yet you didn't feel it? Why the hell did Yuriy open the curtains anyway?

"I feel like shit."

"You look it."

Daichi tried to glare at him but closed his eyes. Even his eyes were on fire. Was he going to die? And just when he had made up his mind to get out of this hell… how unfair!

"You'll be okay. You're sweating already… DON'T throw off the covers!"

"I wanna puke!" muttered Daichi but made no effort to move.

Yuriy looked warily at him for a second, but realized soon that he was only trying to aggravate him. He pulled a chair near the bed and sat down beside Daichi.

The boy didn't look at all like he was sixteen. Signs of his childhood lingered in the soft, rounded contours of his face and arms. His lips were drawn in a crimson pout. But that might be due to the fever. Yuriy found it fascinating to gaze at his face, to study every frown of pain and sickness that marred his smooth brow, to trace the tiny wrinkles near his eyes as he would try to shut his eyes tighter.

It was hard to find sixteen-year-olds that somehow managed to retain their six-year-old selves. He could only regard it with contempt. It reminded of an array of awful women who went to improbable lengths trying to look younger, altering everything… Why did every simple thing about Daichi only remind him of the worst in his life? It was as if the kid had come to put him through miserable salvation. A salvation he had grown to want to inflict on himself…

"Aren't I dead already?"

"No. You're worse off."

Daichi clutched the ends of the beige and red covers. His hands were itching to throw them off. But he didn't like the sudden coolness that would settle around his body too much, either. Moreover, Yuriy would only pull them back on him.

Yuriy looked at the small fisted hands. Flushed and curled, their smoothness and smallness didn't serve to make Daichi look any closer to his sixteen years.

"Are you really such a kid?"

Yuriy wrapped one of his hands with his own.

Daichi's eyes shot open.

But Yuriy wasn't looking at him. He was busily loosening each of his fingers and then intertwined their fingers together.

"Let go."

"No way."

Yuriy slipped down on the floor from the chair, and cushioning his head on Daichi's stomach, closed his eyes.

"You never told me what kind of life you wanted."

"Don't bother a sick person."

"How can you fly free?"

"Are YOU drunk?"

"No one's got wings. No one's got anything. How can you talk about rising and leaving?"

"I am not you."

"No, you are his son. You can hope."

"My dad died a long time ago."

Daichi's head felt heavy. He was feeling cooler and pretty thirsty now. But it didn't seem that Yuriy was in any condition to take care of him. Hell, he seemed to be in no condition to care for himself either.

He had seen Yuriy in worse states before, without being drunk, too. So he wasn't much perturbed by it. However, he really was parched. But his body felt leaden. He won't be able to get anything to drink even if he pushed away that guy. He might as well put up with it the best he could.

Won't it just be so much better if they had never met?

* * *


End file.
